* *
Patrick sat in the king’s throne with Roselyn and Isabelle at his sides. They were at the ceremony for his proclamation as regent, and the great hall was filled to capacity with Pontos’ citizens. The men from Patrick’s original island of Tethys were present before him, as well as Sebastian of House Lilla from Nereus, Matheus of House Mestre from Proteus, and Thanos of House Xiphos from Anapos. The other nobles from Glaucus, Varuna, and Phorcys were present as well, but Roselyn could not put her finger on their names. She racked her brain for a while until she realized she should be paying attention to the ceremony. Her pregnancy made it so hard to remember things that should come easily to her. She chuckled to herself at the realization that it also made her quite prone to distraction, even when she was scolding herself for being distracted in the first place.
Roselyn stared at Vladimir of House Adliger. Patrick’s heavyset father was wearing the colors of Tethys, green and white. Roselyn mused that Patrick was much better suited for the rich hues of Pontos’ red and gold. Here I go again! Why can’t I stop drifting away to these meaningless thoughts? The princess straightened in her chair and shook her head slightly to clear her mind, and when that didn’t work she bowed her head and shut her eyes, straining to listen to what was happening in the present.
This move only caused her to lose focus even more, and she finally snapped her head up just in time to hear the final words of the ceremony. Patrick, son of Vladimir of House Adliger had been hereby proclaimed Regent of Thalassa, to reside in the royal castle of Pontos. The crowd erupted in applause, eager to please. Patrick was now standing before his people, ready to serve in the unfortunate role of King Philip’s successor. Roselyn silently laughed at how appropriate her timing was for bowing her head! At least no one will know that I had been drifting away! I was merely bowing to the regent!
Roselyn joined in the applause with the polite and delicate clap of a royal woman, and returned her husband’s kiss as he leaned in before her. She watched as he leaned in to kiss Queen Isabelle’s cheek as well, and when he pulled away Roselyn noticed a tear running down her mother’s face. This made her father’s death official in the political world, and before Roselyn had a chance to stretch her arm across Patrick’s throne to grasp Isabelle’s hand, the regent was moving back to take his place between them.
Donovan
The night sky was nearly black, with hints of gray where clouds rested peacefully above the sea. Donovan’s ship, Tempest, rocked back and forth gently with the rolling of the water. There were nine others crowded around him on the deck, with a crude map of parchment laid out on a bench between them all. The anchor had been dropped on the Tempest as well as the other nineteen ships of the flotilla. It had taken close to an hour to gather everyone on board Donovan’s vessel for the planning.
“Let’s go over this one more time,” the Gaian captain said. He pointed to the parchment where the layouts of a single island were detailed. There was one major dot along with four minor ones at separate pieces of the land. “Anapos is home to five cities, but four of which are more like towns with no more than fifteen thousand people living in them. These towns are not to be our concern today. We hit the main city, also named Anapos, which has something around fifty thousand inhabitants.
“Now this city isn’t going to be like Triton, boys,” Donovan continued with a quick glance up from the parchment. He pointed to the large dot at the north end of the landmass. “Anapos has walls around it and the typical four watchtowers in each direction on the compass. The dock stretches along this corner of the land here, so that there are two sides to make port for the brown cloaks of Xiphos. We’re going to land along that dock in three separate areas, eight ships on the corner and seven on each of the sides.
“You, you, you, and you,” Donovan said with deliberate points to the cross-armed captains nearest him. “Once we all storm these docks and get through the walls, you will each take your two crews of men and hit the towers.” Again he pointed at them successively. “You’ll take north, you’ll take south, you’re west, and you’re east. I want ten archers left in each tower, and every one of them needs a bag full of arrows to rain down on these bastards.”
“Do you think Lord Thanos will come from his castle?” one of the captains asked. He appeared shaken at that idea.
“Doubtful,” Donovan replied. “He’ll be safe there, and I don’t intend to stay long enough for them to sally out from the castle anyway. You four captains take the towers, and you other five will spread havoc through the town with me. Burn anything that burns. Remember, there are only a thousand of us but there are fifty thousand people that live here. If they figure out those odds everyone and their brother will be picking up anything they get their hands on to bludgeon us. With that being the case… if any townsman comes across your path, kill him. If any townswoman comes across your path, kill her.” Two men shifted uneasily but Donovan continued. “I want no raping and no man should carry anything that is too much of a burden.”
“So the notorious Donovan does have some limits,” a captain, Maximilian, declared. He wore a snide grin that twisted a scar around his right eye grotesquely. His black beard was close-cropped but matted on one side, as though he had just woken up.
“We don’t have time for either pastime,” Donovan snapped. “I couldn’t care less if any one of you got your dicks wet, but I want everything to go well. We’re giving the Thalassans a lesson here that should have been taught in Triton.”
At the mention of Triton, Donovan instantly had another moment of agitation. He had been hoping for Triton to be the name that Ultan selected for the attack, but that was not what the admiral had in mind. Anapos was weakened by sending out one knight to Triton’s ranks and another to Phorcys. Only six hundred men were left to garrison an isle with more than a hundred thousand inhabitants. It was a ripe apple for picking, but Donovan wished to head an assault against Triton for it was there that some snide wretch had snooped around and found Daemyn’s cause of death in the first place. He had come before the council with this news, along with a nobleman and a captain, and although he was a mere watchman this Xander’s art of detection had stirred unrest in Gaia.
Nevertheless, Triton was not on the agenda yet. Ultan said that it would come in time, but after a couple captains brought back several watchmen and guardsmen he had received the information he wanted. Now they knew exactly which island was weakest. Seth had been privy to those interrogations. Garnering information from Thalassans was simple enough. Their minds were weak to begin with. When they were put in a torturer’s chair their thoughts were a jumbled mess but if the right Gaian was present they could decipher each thought as true or false. It made little difference whether they revealed the truth or not, though. They all died in the end.
The captains all nodded in accordance with their orders and Donovan stood up. “If that is all then I leave you to return to your ships. We strike just before dawn, so follow the Tempest with the knowledge that speed is not as important as stealth. When we’re ready to leave I will deliver three blows to my horn, and then you shall know to return to your vessels.” The men nodded again. “Try and show some cheer, men. We’ve been away for two weeks, but our voyage back will be swift. You’ll be seeing your families in a week.”
*
The ships came in silence and hardly made a thud as they lined up against the dock. Donovan checked the straps of his shield and held it firm. It was made from lime, painted green all along the wood, with an iron boss and rim that were scoured to gleam in the moonlight. He left his head uncovered, mostly because he did not like the weight and restriction of a helmet but also to do with the fact that he felt it would be further insult to his enemy. He loosened his sword in its scabbard and walked off the boarding ramp.
Several Thalassans had gone forth to question the shipmasters but their throats were cut and their corpses dumped into the ocean as quick as they came. The Gaians flooded towards the doors on padded feet, waiting as severa
l specific men threw grapnels over the wall to haul themselves onto the parapets.
Donovan watched anxiously from the dock as a brief scuffle ensued on the parapets before the few sentries of Anapos were killed and thus another obstacle eliminated. The sounds of crickets that had been so ominous before was reduced to nothing, as though the insects themselves waited for what disaster lay ahead for the Thalassan peoples. The climbers then moved to the other side of the wall and casually opened the gates of Anapos as though the city was welcoming comrades. Donovan marched through with the bulk of the soldiers while his four assigned captains ran to take the towers in the four directions.
The army then spread amongst the town and began lighting their torches from the lights scattered along the street. Immediately the darkness prefacing dawn was filled with the orange light of hundreds of brands. The soldiers spread through the streets and held their torches up to thatch, dry wood, and anything else likely to burn. Donovan watched with a grin as hundreds of men went about the destruction, and before long the screams began.
Men and women clamored about Anapos looking for the cause of the light and the source of the disruption. Thatch roofs were already aflame in some areas and the home owners were scrambling out in their bedclothes to the well for water. In their franticness most of them did not even bother to so much as glance at the soldiers carousing the town, but this overlooking was soon ended when the first blood hit the cobblestone street. A man was the first to lose his life. He was a big Thalassan, hair all over his naked chest as he raced to the well, and a well-placed arrow took him in the back with the force of over a hundred pounds slamming him to the ground.
Donovan’s gaze flicked to a woman who screamed at the sight of her husband’s murder. He turned to Seth. “Take our nine archers and get on one of the houses.” The high guardsman nodded. “Hit anything that isn’t wearing a green cloak.”
The short man scrambled onto a manor that had a shingled roof and gave enough foot room for ten men. His archers followed suit, and once they were atop the great house they all strung their bows with ease and began loosing into a throng of townsfolk. Their arrows came down with brutal efficiency, slicing into the confusion to pierce necks, breasts, thighs, and bellies.
That’s enough watching, Donovan thought as he marched farther from the gates leading to the dock. He unsheathed his shortsword and got to work. A woman was running past him with her tunic half-torn. She was clutching the falling piece of cloth up and over her breasts when Donovan’s folded steel rammed into her stomach, lifting her feet from the ground for just a few heartbeats before he let her body slide off the blade.
The flames were spreading rapidly and several houses and shops were completely engulfed in the inferno. The homes of Anapos were packed so closely together that even one burning house had the potential for disaster, but by now there were dozens. Some of the town had been built of brick and mortar, to be sure, but there were plenty who had opted for the cheaper route of wood and thatch. Those homes were the first to fall.
Arrows were coming down from all sections of the town now, falling from the manor next to the dock in addition to the four towers that had been quickly neutralized and reoccupied with Gaian bowmen. The shafts found their marks amongst the townspeople but were mostly directed towards the brown cloaks of House Xiphos. A squadron of ten men had collected themselves in an alley and sprung out to meet the city’s invasion when a barrage of missiles ruthlessly cut into them. The mail was no match for the well-aimed arrows, and all ten were soon dead in a lake of crimson at the mouth of the alley they had huddled inside just moments before.
A Gaian soldier was standing with horror wrought all over his young face when Donovan sidled up next to him. He whipped the young man around and saw there were even tears in the youth’s eyes. Donovan slapped him, twice, and shouted at him to grab a torch and commence the burning. The young soldier scampered off in the direction of a streetlight and the Gaian captain gritted his teeth with agitation.
Two boys flung themselves at the Gaian captain’s back then, and he swiveled to meet them with his steel and teeth bared. Neither of them could have been older than fourteen, but one held a pitchfork and the other carried a guttered torch he was using as a club. Donovan laughed and used his mind to knock the torch-bearer to the ground while he focused on the farmer’s son. The boy’s mind was a tapestry of fear, his thoughts clamoring on about death and his home’s destruction as he aimlessly prodded with the pitchfork’s prongs. Donovan knocked the pitchfork away and moved forth, kicking the boy’s chest to knock him to the cobblestones and sliding his shortsword up and under his ribcage. The boy made a soft guttural sound as his life ebbed out of him. The torch-bearer screamed, however, at the other child’s death and flung himself once more at their attacker. Donovan grabbed the torch from the boy’s hand and threw it aside before crunching his fist into the boy’s mouth. He left the boy squatting over a pool of broken teeth and his friend’s corpse.
He joined in with a mass of soldiers marching through the street with weapons drawn. None dared to oppose them and most fled in the opposite direction, abandoning their homes and friends to whatever fate they had left. They sprinted in the direction of Anapos’ castle, which left its gates open for the protection of its citizens and only a few Gaians dared to walk in there. They never came back out.
Donovan shouldered his way to the front line and watched eagerly as a force of two dozen brown cloaks formed to assault the Gaians. They were facing an immediate threat of fifty-two men, while still a shaft would fly from some tower and smack into their undefended sides. They formed a shield wall with resolution writ in the open spaces of their helmets. These men march to their deaths and know it, Donovan thought as he lined his shield up against those of his neighbors. Another man would possibly be tempted for a moment to spare the brave men of Lord Thanos’ household. He gave the order to slaughter them all.
The walls moved towards one another with uneasy speed. Most of the Thalassans were nervous as they approached their enemy but their faces were grim and they held their weapons steady. They stopped short, raised pistols and fired a succession of shots into the oncoming invaders. Several Gaians fell to the shots but the rest said nothing as they placed one foot before the other, staring into their enemies’ eyes until they were close enough to smell their stale breath. Dawn was peaking over the horizon as the first shields clashed.
Donovan gazed with determination at his enemy, watching the young soldier’s movements grimly as he decided the quickest way to dispatch him. The soldiers flanking the young Thalassan were preoccupied with the Gaians before them, shoving their shields forward in vain attempts to gain ground while their swords and spears did work. The Gaian line held firm and Donovan hardly acted since his shield touched his opponent’s, suddenly springing into motion with a feint towards the youth’s shield before bringing the blade up and down in a slash that tore the iron helm like parchment.
The rest of the Gaian line commenced with the butchery, seizing the opportunity of a hole in the line to surge into and spread death like a plague through the ranks of Thalassan soldiers. One by one they fell to shortsword and ax, arms lopped off, thighs gushing blood, and heads split open by a rain of blows. Only one man remained firm in his own defense, swinging a great steel sword about to preserve his life for just a few more moments. He was soon the last in his troop, and Donovan grinned to see a clasp of jet inlaid in silver at the man’s throat to fasten his brown cloak. This is someone of substance, he determined as he watched the silver streak of steel hack down another Gaian at the throat.
“Leave him to me,” Donovan announced.
Two of the soldiers turned to grumble their complaint but once they saw their commander stepping forth they bowed out. The Gaians formed a vast circle around the pair and the warrior of Xiphos stared about himself determined to see what would happen next. Donovan came closer and held his shield at the ready but the Thalassan was not willing to strike the first blow.
“What’s wrong, Thalassan?” Donovan inquired maliciously. “Afraid?”
“I’m dead no matter what choice I make. What’s the difference?” the man replied in a gruff voice. His thoughts betrayed him, however, and Donovan was quick to parry a lightning strike predisposed for his stomach.
“Clever,” Donovan allowed. “But I know you more than you even know yourself right now.”
“Fuck you, Gaian,” the Thalassan exclaimed and lanced out with his blade once more.
Donovan lifted his shield again and slid the steel off the boss. He twisted around and arched his own steel in retaliation but the Thalassan was just as quick. His shield took the brunt of the impact and shuddered against the warrior’s arm. The Thalassan cursed and tried a series of cuts, but Donovan parried each blow with the ease of knowing their aim before they fell into place. He used his mind to urge the Thalassan forward and the man staggered at the unknown force, blocking a cut aimed for his thigh but unaware of the iron rim of Donovan’s shield before it smashed into his face.
His enemy was frantic with blackness in his vision for a few heartbeats, swinging both sword and shield to and fro as he regained his sight. His nose was crushed with blood pumping in thick pulses down his lips. The Thalassan spat the blood away with the agitation of swiping at a housefly and lifted his shield. Donovan ran forward and attempted a stab into his enemy’s mail but the blow was parried. He shoved his shield into his enemy’s chest and stabbed again, finding a sheath for the blade in the man’s thigh before pulling it and stabbing again. The Thalassan was backing away towards the edge of the circle now, desperately trying to fend off the blows of his savage assailant until he was pinned against two men’s shields that kept him from moving. His legs were pierced again, once, twice, and he began to crumple under the loss of blood when Donovan abruptly backed away.
Severance (The Sovereign Book 1) Page 35